


Any Other Way

by TheJediCode



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Poe Dameron (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Male-Female Friendship, Poe Dameron Being a Little Shit, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJediCode/pseuds/TheJediCode
Summary: After being badly injured in the attack on Starkiller, you have a long road to recovery ahead of you.  Frequent visits from your boisterous and charismatic friend Poe Dameron help the process feel a little bit shorter.  Sometimes, though, jokes get taken a little too far.





	Any Other Way

**Author's Note:**

> I've really been wanting to do a Poe Dameron fic for a long time, and I finally got around to writing it. I hope you all like it!

You tentatively reached a hand up to feel the bandage that was wrapped around your skull.  The stabbing pain in your side stopped you almost as soon as you lifted your arm.  Looking in the handheld mirror and seeing yourself for the first time since the battle at Starkiller, you were sickened by what you saw.  You knew you had been hurt badly in the assault on the First Order base, but you hadn’t realized the extent of your injuries.  How had you managed to make it back to D’Qar in such a state? 

Your left arm was in a sling, and you couldn’t be entirely sure which part of it was broken.  Every movement you attempted sent a jolt of pain through your body.  The bandage wrapped snugly around your midsection hinted at broken ribs, and several fingers were splinted.  Your legs were covered with a thin white blanket, but the dull ache that emanated from them and the edge of a cast peeking out from under the sheet indicated that they had not gone unharmed.

They told you that your X-wing had been shot down by a TIE fighter during the battle.  The headquarters on D’Qar had lost all communications with you after the crash, and you were presumed dead.  Another pilot saw you crawling from the wreckage, though, and managed to come to your rescue before the entire planet imploded.  Between the impact with the ground and waking up in the infirmary, everything was hazy.

You were visited several times throughout your stay.  All sorts of Resistance personnel dropped in to wish you a speedy recovery.  On one occasion, General Organa herself had come to personally thank you for your bravery and sacrifice.  Your favorite visits, though, were with your squadron leader, Commander Poe Dameron.  He always made you feel better after a particularly rough day, and he didn’t laugh (too much) at the things you said under the influence of the pain medication that the infirmary staff was pumping into your bloodstream.

“Hey, kid,” he said with a grin, pulling up a chair beside your hospital bed and sitting in it backwards, straddling the seat and resting his crossed arms on the back.  You made a mental note that Poe Dameron always looked effortlessly cool no matter what he was doing.  He was just charming in a way that made his every action endearing.  “You dead yet?”

“Very funny,” you mumbled sourly, clearly not in a joking mood.

“Someone didn’t get their afternoon meds,” he noticed.  “You’re not usually this grumpy when I come to see you.”

“Sorry,” you groaned.  “I saw myself in the mirror today for the first time since the crash, and I just realized how awful I look.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Dameron said, his face serious, “you’ve always looked pretty terrible.”

As he cackled loudly at his little joke, you looked for something to throw at him to make him regret his words, but you realized that you would hardly be able to pick anything up, let alone throw it.

“I hate you,” you grumbled.

“I know, sweetheart,” he laughed, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Poe had become a close friend over the years.  It was hard not to be friends with a man like him.  He had a personality that naturally drew people towards him.  You were not immune to his gravitational pull.  Poe was the type of person who was easy to love, and no one around him could deny that he was the “best guy in the whole damn galaxy,” as you had once heard someone phrase it.

Many a man and woman had found themselves falling gradually in love with Poe Dameron.  He was an attractive man, both in personality and appearance.  Maybe it was because of the age difference between you or the relationship you had built with him over the years, but you had never sought to be anything more than friends with Poe.

“Hi there,” he said with a trademark grin when a nurse came in to check your vital signs.  “Is there a reason (Y/N) hasn’t gotten her pain medicine lately? Because she’s acting like a rathtar caught in a sarlacc pit.”

You frowned and made an obscene hand gesture at him when the nurse had her back turned.  He merely rolled his eyes in response.

“We’re trying to wean her off it, Commander,” the nurse told him.  “We don’t want her to become dependent on it.”

“Yeah, I guess crippling drug addiction isn’t the best alternative to cracked ribs and a concussion,” he replied.

The nurse’s smile was a little too big and her laugh a little too loud for the lame joke he had made, and you knew she had fallen for Poe’s charm.  You shook your head incredulously as she left the room, batting her eyelashes in the Commander’s direction.

“How do you do that?” you asked him when she was gone.  “Why is everyone so into you all the time?”

“It’s called charisma, (L/N).”  A cocky grin spread across his face.  “You’re either born with it, or you aren’t.  I was clearly born with it.  You, my friend, were not.”

He picked up the handheld mirror from the bedside table and winked at his reflection.

“Get a room, you two,” you groaned as he began blowing kisses to himself.

“I’m here to cheer you up and hopefully speed up your recovery,” he informed you.  “It’s hard to do that when you’re being such a grump.  Is it the hospital food they’re feeding you?  I can try to sneak you something better the next time I come by.”

“You know kriffing well what the problem is,” you griped.  “All of my bones are broken, and I. Am. In. Pain.  Do you understand?  PAIN!”

“I think I liked it better when you were on the meds.”

“I hate you.”

“You know, I think you already told me that once today,” he informed you cheerfully, pressing buttons on the side of your bed that raised it up and down.  You rolled your eyes as you felt yourself getting further from the ground before gradually sinking back down.

“Quit it!  That’s not a toy,” you griped.

“I have to disagree with you on that one.  I’m having quite a bit of fun, and I’m pretty sure that makes this a toy.”

The nurse poked her head back into the room.  “Commander Dameron,” she said sweetly.  You noticed that she batted her eyelashes when she spoke, and you had trouble stifling a laugh.  “There’s a gentleman out here who says he’s been looking for you.  Do you want me to send him in?”

“Sure thing,” Poe told her with a broad grin, the kind that always made ladies swoon. 

“Um, the last time I checked, this was my room and not yours,” you said to him.  “Since when do you get to invite visitors in here without my permission?  You didn’t even ask who’s looking for you.  It could be literally _anyone_.  Everyone on this base is always looking for you.”

“That’s because I’m a hot commodity,” he purred.  “Everyone wants a piece of the Poe.”

“Kriff, you’re exhausting,” you sighed.

There was a faint knock on the open door to your room, and a man you didn’t recognize stood in the frame, silhouetted by the light from the hallway.  He smiled sheepishly as he peered in to see you and Poe.

“Finn!” Poe exclaimed, beaming at the man.  “It’s good to see you up and around. If they would have told me that you were the one looking for me, I wouldn’t have let them tell you where I am.”

“Is he always like this?” the man who was apparently named Finn asked you.

“Most of the time,” you informed him.  “I take it you two know each other.”  You looked him over and spotted a familiar article of clothing.  “Well, that or you stole Poe’s jacket.”

“I didn’t steal it,” he said defensively.  “Why does everyone think I’m a thief?”

“Hold on there, pal.  It was just a joke.  I’m not accusing you of anything.  Poe always lets his one night stands take a trophy when they leave.”

“I wha-  I’m not…  We never…” Finn faltered for something to say.

“Relax, Finn,” Poe laughed.  “She’s just joking.  Anyways, I’m the one who takes trophies.”

“In other words,” you laughed, “Poe’s a bit of a slut.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” the pilot grinned, patting you on the shoulder and causing you to wince.  “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, I get it,” Finn nodded.  “I didn’t realize that you two were a couple.”

“Oh, kark no!” you snorted.  “Not even in my worst nightmares are we together.  I would rather kiss a bantha than Poe Dameron.”

“I don’t know,” Poe considered.  “I think I’d take you over the bantha, but maybe a tauntaun stands a chance.”

“You heard it firsthand,” you announced to Finn.  “Poe wants to kiss a tauntaun.  It’s honestly not that surprising considering his past sexual history.  I’ve seen quite a few people come out of his quarters that really did _look_ like furry snow lizards.”

“Did you come to ask me something in particular, Finn?” Poe asked, eager to steer the subject away from his past lovers.

“Um, yeah.  Is there any word on Rey?  Someone told me she isn’t around.  She’s okay, right?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell you?” Poe said with surprise.  “She’s more than okay.  She left to go find Luke Skywalker.  No one knows when she’ll be back, but I’m sure she’s happy because, damn, she’s probably about to save the entire galaxy and all.”

“Wow, you sure miss out on a lot when you’re unresponsive,” Finn lamented.

“Tell me about it,” you mumbled in commiseration.  “I was out of it so long that I don’t even know what all’s wrong with me yet.”

Finn smiled at you, and it was a pleasant sort of grin.  It wasn’t anything like Poe’s enchanting smirks that made everyone in vicinity stop and stare, but it was nice, nonetheless.

“I’m guessing you’ve been in a coma as well then?” he asked.

“For about two weeks after Starkiller,” you nodded.  “I got shot down, and someone rescued me right before the whole giant snowball collapsed.  I’m lucky to be here at all.”

“Well, I hope you have a quick recovery,” Finn smiled.  He chatted with Poe for a minute or two before leaving the two of you alone.

“A bantha?” Poe mused when Finn was gone.  “You’d rather kiss a bantha than me?  I’m starting to think that you’ve never actually seen one of those things.  Besides, I’ve been told I’m an amazing kisser.”

“By every woman on the base, no doubt,” you snorted.

“Not to mention the fact that I’m smoking hot and have a killer personality.”

“Yeah, let yourself keep thinking that, Poe.”

You and your squadron leader continued to hurl good-natured insults at each other for quite some time.  Such conversation was commonplace in the hangars.  Pilots were a notoriously crude bunch, and you were no exception to the rule.  You could joke around with the best of them, and the worst of them, for that matter.  One of the reasons you admired Poe so much was his ability to carry on raunchy banter without ever taking things too far.  He always knew when to stop before anyone really got their feelings hurt.

“But really, a bantha?” he asked again, more seriously this time.  There was less humor in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Don’t get sore about it, Poe.  It was just a joke,” you mumbled.  “I was just busting your chops, and you know that.”

“Yeah, but would it really be so bad? To kiss me, I mean.”

“Wow, your ego really won’t let this one slide, will it?”  You rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe that…”

Your words were suddenly cut short by the completely unexpected sensation of Poe’s lips crushing up against yours.  It was over in an instant – finished as quickly as it had begun.  However, it left you unable to speak for some time.

“Sorry.”  Poe cleared his throat, sitting back up straight in his chair from where he had leaned over to kiss you.  “That was totally uncalled for.  I shouldn’t have done that.”

You just stared at him, unable to think of a single word to say.  You were absolutely speechless.

“I’m sorry. Kriff, say _something_ ,” Poe urged, clearly beginning to panic about your lack of response.  You simply held your absent-minded gaze on his face.  “(Y/N).”

Finally, you managed to string enough words together to form a sentence.  “They were right.”

“Huh?”

“They were right,” you repeated.

“I think the pain’s starting to get to you.  Maybe they need to put you back on the drugs.”

“Whoever said that you’re an amazing kisser,” you elaborated.  “They were right.”

Poe smiled that smile you couldn’t help but love.  “So where do you stand on the whole ‘smoking hot’ and ‘killer personality’ aspects?”

You grinned back at him.  “Shut up, Dameron, and kiss me again.”

“Gladly.”

When your lips met for the second time, it was a completely different experience.  It wasn’t a quick peck that was over in a split second.  While you had been surprised by how pleasant such a quick kiss had been, it was much nicer to go slowly.  Poe’s mouth moved expertly against yours.  His lips were soft, and he placed a gentle hand against your cheek.  As insignificant as the touch was, it did not go unappreciated.  It was a sort of link between the two of you that anchored you to him, reassuring you that what was happening was very real.

“How’s that?” he asked, pulling away and trailing his fingers along your cheekbone.

“Excellent,” you whispered breathlessly.

“You know, I was afraid that you might not ever come out of that coma,” he said very somberly.

“The great Poe Dameron was afraid? I refuse to believe it.”

“Terrified,” he confessed.  “I thought I was going to lose you.  That’s when I realized that my feelings for you went a little deeper than I thought.”

“You didn’t need to worry about me.  I’m a lot harder to get rid of than that.”

“I know.  You’re resilient.”

“Like a well-cared-for X-wing,” you observed.

“I was thinking more like a weed,” he teased.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“You know, this doesn’t change the fact that I hate your guts,” you told him with mock sternness.  “I still loathe you.”

“I know,” he beamed, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I appreciate any kudos and comments you leave on this fic. I love to hear what you all think, so feel free to tell me in the comments section. Reader responses are part of what makes writing fanfiction fun.


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